Word had spread around the base camp that there would be no Christmas Eve service at the makeshift theater turned chapel. The news from the chain of command from XVIII Airborne Corps was that, we are not to offend the host nation, Saudi Arabia, with our Christian Christmas Services. It was actually illegal to have any other Faith in the Kingdom other than Islam. Our Chaplains were not allowed to wear their branch insignia on their uniforms. That was replaced by their actual rank.
So when Christmas Eve came, we treated it like any other routine work day. I even volunteered to pull another Sergeant's shift on guard duty, so he can call home to CONUS. We didn't have access to call Guam back then, like they do now with today's technology. All we had back then was snail mail and AT&T. So I pulled the day shift, supervising a machine gun team on one of our bunkers along the wire. It was pretty much an uneventful day.
Later that evening after chow, our chaplain's aide told us that there was a small get-together at the helipad at 2300. A small group of troopers were getting together to celebrate 'quietly', Christmas Eve. My squad had decided that we would go check it out, since there was nothing else to do. It's not like the First Sergeant was going to have our necks for breaking lights out.
When we got to the small area of the helipad. I noticed that it was one of our chaplains from my regiment that was leading the small group in singing Christmas carols quietly. It was weird singing in whispered tones. But slowly more small groups were approaching our little area of the helipad and joining us. Someone had brought candles and we were lighting it up, one by one, in the cool desert night. It was funny. Our small platoon size group turned out to be two brigades in the helipad. Every trooper standing shoulder to shoulder in this standing room only crowd.
A senior ranking chaplain had come out, with other chaplains from the other units. A couple of troopers brought guitars and a trumpet. Next thing I noticed. The Filipino workers who manned the base fire station were also there. Our quiet singing turned out to be a loud affair with paratroopers singing in unison different carols led by the small group of leaders to our front. I thought the MP's would come and disperse the crowd. But they were there singing along next to us. As I turned to my right, I noticed familiar faces, my Regimental Commander and Command Sergeant Major; next to them was my Battery Commander and First Sergeant; behind them was my Platoon Sergeant and Platoon Leader. My Platoon Sergeant caught my eye and gave me head nod to face forward and carry on. I nudged my team leader on the side and pointed at the command group to our right. I guess we're good to go if the command is there singing along.
For an hour we sang, well past midnight. We left the helipad the same way we arrived, in small groups, back to our unit areas relishing what Christmas meant that night. Out there in the desert surrounded by a faith that didn't like us, but we were there to protect. That night, I knew what Christmas meant. It was about Jesus. And no Order, was going to stop us from celebrating the Lord's Birthday.
Merry Christmas
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